Spoiled Shorts
by Fayolinn
Summary: Sterek drabble. Someone spilled coffee all over Stiles' shorts and his only alternative is to change into a pair of Allison's…


**Short drabble for my friend Derek about his Teen Wolf OTP. ❤**

* * *

"You have got to be the biggest klutz I know, Stiles."

"I'm gonna ignore that and pretend you just handed me a nice compliment." Stiles cocked his head, blinking pointedly, and flashed a brief, strained smile. "Wow – imagine that, Scott."

Scott snorted in response, turning away. "I'll hand you a compliment as soon as you change out of those shorts."

Stiles frowned, then sighed, shifting uncomfortably. The board shorts he was currently wearing were brand new – and ruined. Having been in a hurry to Scott's place, he had accidentally knocked a passerby's coffee out of their hands and all over the sidewalk. Unfortunately, half the cup had managed to turn his shorts into a mocha mess.

"Look, can you at least help me out?" Stiles pleaded, eager to be rid of the stench of coffee. "You got any shorts I can borrow?"

"Nah, man, sorry." Scott cast a glance over his shoulder from where he was adjusting the sheets on his bed. "It's laundry day, all my shorts are in the wash. Pants, too. Look, I—"

"You need more shorts, dude. I know what I'm getting you for your birthday. Maybe even Christmas."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Maybe you should just keep those gifts. You'll probably end up ruining more shorts than you can afford."

Stiles crossed his arms. "Way to be optimistic." He glanced at the room, hoping that perhaps Scott was lying after all. "So, really – nothing for me?"

"Nope." Scott held out his arms, as if to prove his point. "Well, unless…"

"Unless?"

Scott ran a hand through his hair. "Uh… Allison left a pair of her shorts here the other day."

Stiles' eyebrows rose significantly. "Allison's shorts. _Here_." He coughed awkwardly. "I'm not even gonna ask."

Scott glared at him. "We went swimming, alright? She was wearing a bikini underneath, relax."

Stiles shrugged. "Great. Good. Glad you're staying safe. But… what about them?"

"You could… wear them."

"You're not serious." Stiles' jaw dropped. "I thought – I thought that was a joke, man. Like – no, you're not serious, you can't be."

"Look, I'm not the one walking around with the aroma of coffee all over my shorts. You either stick around and work on this school project with me in those, or you wear Allison's." Scott fished around in a nearby drawer, producing a pair of small pair of girl's shorts. "My mom's not home, so no one'll see you wearing them. You can sneak back to your place at night and change there."

Stiles made a face – it was more of a grimace than anything else. "You'll tell Lydia. And Allison. And the whole lacrosse team. I'm not risking—"

"Wow, sure smells like Starbucks in here—"

Stiles snatched Allison's shorts. "Give me those."

* * *

Stiles ran to his car hours later, flinging himself into his Jeep and starting the engine. He could still hear Scott's laughter ringing in his ears.

_"You look ridiculous," Scott snickered as Stiles returned clad in form-fitting booty shorts. "Wow. I just – God, I don't know whether I'm amused or revolted."_

_"Ha ha," Stiles muttered, attempting to pull the shorts further down his thighs. God, they were so tight! It bunched up in all the wrong places and even had the word "PINK" in bright letters over the back._

_"Nice ass."_

_"Fuck you."_

Stiles raced home, pulling into the driveway. His gaze shifted nervously as he scanned the area, checking that no one could intercept him on the way to his room. All he had to do was make it there undetected, change, and he would be safe. And also pray Scott wouldn't reveal this to anyone.

Grabbing his ruined shorts and keys, Stiles dashed for the door. In record time he was within his room, panting lightly. _I made it. _Grinning triumphantly, Stiles turned on the light to find Derek Hale sitting on the edge of his bed.

Stiles shrieked shrilly, dropping everything.

"Nice shorts," Derek murmured, his expression flat as usual.

Stiles recovered, frowning. "Nice… face." Derek simply blinked at him. Heaving a sigh, he placed his dropped keys on his desk and threw his ruined shorts at the dark-haired man. Derek caught it without flinching, throwing it in a pile of unwashed clothes.

"Coffee." It was all Derek said, and all Stiles needed to hear.

"Yeah yeah, upset some woman on my way to Scott's." Stiles made his way over to his dresser, searching for a new pair of shorts to wear. "Luckily the coffee wasn't too hot, but there sure was a lot of it."

Derek watched the boy silently, face void of emotion. That didn't prevent his eyes from wandering to Stiles' lower half, though.

"Dammit, Derek, did you steal my shorts?" Stiles slammed a drawer shut, bending down to rifle through a lower drawer. "Not like you'd need to or anything, my style isn't really your style. Not saying your style's bad or anything, just saying. You know what I mean. Heck, if you needed to borrow some, though, you can just ask. I dunno if they'd fit. But anyway, it'd still be nice if you asked before taking – Derek? Derek, are you even listening—"

"I'm listening."

Stiles gasped as he straightened, surprised to find Derek just inches behind him. Damn the guy, he always moved so quietly! Derek was gazing down at him, eyes intense as ever.

"Jesus, Derek, can you _not _do that? Please?" Stiles shook his head, turning back to the dresser. "You don't have to come over here to tell me you're listening, you know; I can hear you just fine from the bed… ah, here's a pair."

Stiles held up the clean pair of shorts, satisfied. He was about to head to the bathroom to change when he felt a hand grasp his wrist.

"Stay here."

"Derek." Stiles turned to face the taller man. "Look, I'm just going to get changed. It'll take two seconds, I'll be back—"

"Change right here."

"Why? I know we're both dudes, but—"

"Let me help you."

And then Derek had him shoved against a wall, lips locked and hands planted firmly on his hips. Stiles made a sound of surprise and indignation that quickly melded with a moan. Derek made his intentions clear, large hands roaming under Stiles' shirt, mapping over his chest and stomach before his fingers dipped beneath the waistline, pulling at Allison's shorts.

"_Whoa_, okay, watch it," Stiles breathed as he pulled back, attempting to ignore the rising desire in his lower half. Derek continued to lather his neck with his tongue, nipping at his jawline and collarbones. "That's enough, I – _hey_, watch the paws – I mean, hands! I can – undress myself, thanks—"

"Let me _help_," Derek growled, his voice low and guttural.

Stiles held up his hands in defeat, eyes wide. "Alright. Alright, your call. I'll just stand here helpless, then, while you defile me – but is it _really _necessary to lick me all over? I thought – _ah_ – you were helping me – _nngh _– change my shorts—"

Derek growled again, deep in his throat, his breath hot and heavy against Stiles' ear. "You'll definitely need to, after this."

"What are you – _hey_!_ You_ know these are _Allison's_, right? _God_, Derek, I don't want to have to explain why her shorts reek of sex—"

"You'll wash them."

"Fine. Then _you'll _return them to her."

"I don't think that's wise."

"… you're right. Dammit, Derek!"

"Looks like you'll just have to take them off all the way." Then Derek grinned, flashing his teeth. "Who's the sour wolf now?"

Stiles punched his shoulder half-heartedly.


End file.
